The Mermaid Disease
by Lauren Stargazer
Summary: Kelsea doesn't believe in mermaids, or at least she didn't until she found out first-hand that not only are merfolk real, but that the bite of a merman can turn a human woman into a mermaid. Now Kelsea is stuck with some guy who bit her, trying to figure out how to get back home./Beauty and the Beast with a few fishy twists.
1. 0: Prologue

**Mermaid Disease**

**0/Prologue**

_The following excerpts are from the journal of Marco Marendilla, the doctor of a late-seventeenth century Spanish merchant ship. They have been translated from Castilian into English where the words are still legible. Some sections are too damaged or written too illegibly to be deciphered._

-x-

May 8, 1689  
At home my wife and children await my return. If not for them, I am not sure that I would ever return to land. Seawater runs though my veins; I belong on a boat. I think my eldest daughter feels the same call to the waters as I do. Before I last set sail, she begged me to take her with me. "But _Papá_," she cried, "it would be a great adventure!"  
"A ship is no place for a girl such as yourself," I told her. The waters would be too happy to take a young beauty like my Margarita from me.

…

The captain and his first mate picked up a few new crew members a week ago before we left my home port. One of the recruits has caught my eye. He is young and skinny with pale, inexperienced hands. He hides his face from me, his black hair like a curtain concealing his features from my view. The boy speaks infrequently, likely because his voice has not deepened. At least he is fast on his feet and quick at learning.  
I believe his name is Martín Martínez. I shall watch him closely.

-x-

May 23  
The waters have been rough and the sky cloudy. … says there shall be a storm within the week. I have heard the men talking about having seen shadows in the waters next to the ship. Some sailors believe the shadows are the merfolk, the fish-people. Martín even spoke once to say that he saw one show its head above the water and that it was staring at him. More than that the boy would not say. I hope Martín was tired and imagined what he saw. If not, I fear trying times are nearing.

-x-

May 28

…

Dark clouds are visible in the distance and the wind has changed directions. Many men are preparing … for the storm now because in a few hours we will be at war with the water and wind. I shall go help them now.

-x-

May 29  
I am exhausted and no longer know what I can do save pray to _Dios_. Our ship and its cargo made it through the storm with minimal damage and losses. The crew did not make it through the storm so well.  
Let me begin where I last left off. All the sailors were battening the hatches, reefing the sails, and other preparations. Before we sailed headfirst into the storm, a few individuals were told to go below decks. There they could stay out of the way while keeping eyes on the water the ship was taking in. Martín was one of the men told to stay off the deck.  
The water rocked the ship violently and large waves constantly washed on to the bow. Many sailors fastened ropes around their waists to one of the masts of the ship so as to not be washed away, myself included.  
I do not know what Martín thought when he decided to emerge from below deck and expose himself directly to the elements. However, as he was not expected to be out and trying to help us, he managed to get in the way and everything went wrong at the same time. Andrés took a few steps back without checking behind him and bumped into Martín. The boy lost his balance and slipped. As he tried to stand up, large wave splashed up and the boy went overboard.  
It is terrifying when someone falls off the ship. You must react immediately or risk leaving the fallen member behind to drown or get eaten by sea creatures. Jumping in the water puts others at risk, but ropes tossed into the water are easily lost to drowning sailors.  
Andrés was the spotter, keeping his eyes on Martín in the water. "Man overboard on the port side!" he cried, his voice loud and clear despite the wind and rain working to muffle his words.  
I rushed to the side of the ship to … needed first to heal the poor boy if he was recovered. At the same time, Miguel tossed a length of rope with a loop at the end down to Martín, who was struggling to stay afloat in the large waves. The Martín's arm brushed the rope. I held my breath, hoping that the boy was going to be saved. But alas, a wave pushed Martín roughly against the side of the boat, knocking him unconscious. I cursed and adjusted the rope tied around my waist, planning on leaping into the dark waters to where Martín sunk beneath the waves. Before I could jump, a hand grabbed my arm. Andrés pointed at a figure in the water.  
A head popped up in the water near the back of our ship. Fair hair was plastered with water to its face and neck. The head vanished under the water, but a fish tail … to the crew watching. Less than a heartbeat later, two heads broke the surface of the water behind the ship. One was the same from before, but the other head had dark hair and appeared to be coughing. The dark haired one slumped, resting on the shoulder of the fair haired one.  
I lost sight of them as a large wave much like the one that carried Martín overboard pounded against the deck of the ship.  
"Martín is lost to us," I heard Andrés declare. "Get back to work! We have a ship to sail, unless you wish to follow the boy to the bottom of the ocean."  
Men muttered prayers to _Dios_ as they resumed their activities until well after the storm was behind us. Only then did many of us get some rest. The crew members who had been below deck during the storm came out and manned the ship while we tried to sleep.  
It felt like I had only been asleep for a short amount of time when Miguel shook me awake and said, "Marco, come quick! You will not believe this." He led me to the beakhead of the ship and pointed out to the water. Not too far in the distance was a dinghy with only one person lying down in it.  
"Martín!" I exclaimed, recognizing the small figure …  
When Martín's boat was close enough to the ship, one of the men dropped a rope ladder down the side of the ship. As the doctor aboard this ship, I decided to go down to Martín first to make sure he was capable of being moved. I descended the ladder quickly. I kept one hand on the lifeline as I stepped on to Martín's dinghy. When I turned to examine the boy, I was shocked to see the damp shirt Martín wore clung to feminine body curves. Her bosom rose and fell with each breath she took, showing that she was just sleeping. Her arm was slung over her face, the crook of her arm shielding her eyes from the soft morning light.  
I pushed her arm away from her face and gasped. The girl disguised as Martín Martínez was Margarita Marendilla Márquez, my daughter.  
I whispered her name and her dark eyes fluttered open. "_Papá_? I do not feel well."  
There was no point in getting cross with her. I told her to hop on my back so I could carry her up the side of the ship. She wrapped her arms and legs tightly around me. I climbed back onto the deck of the ship, not caring about the dinghy as the ship continued past it.  
On deck, the crew swarmed us, wishing to see the boy they thought had died in the storm. As soon as Margarita dropped from my back and on to her own two feet, I pulled my daughter in front of me so I could hold her to my chest. "I need a private audience with the captain," I said. Captain Fernández, who had been standing nearby, nodded. I picked my girl up and followed him to his private quarters.  
When we reached the room, I set Margarita down in a chair and told the captain about my daughter. He was surprised, but took the news well. He even offered Margarita his bed while she recovered.  
The captain then left me with my daughter to share the news with the rest of the crew. I examined Margarita more thoroughly than I had when she was floating in the dinghy. That brings me to where I am now.  
Margarita is running a fever, but is mostly unhurt. She has a large bruise on her forehead and what appears to be a bite mark on the side of her left leg, right above her ankle. The wound concerns me, so I poured some vinegar on it and wrapped it up.  
My girl is resting now, but I asked earlier her what she remembers after going overboard. She responded that she recalls nothing but me waking her.

…

-x-

June 6  
Margarita's condition worries me. Her bruise has faded, but her temperature has neither risen nor fallen from the fever it is now. The mark on her leg – which Margarita insists on calling a bite mark even though she cannot remember how she got it – has healed over. Black markings the exact same shape and size of the bite mark still remain on her skin. She is also starting to complain about aches and itches around her throat and shoulders. …  
I have heard a few men grumbling. "Women bring bad luck to a ship," they said. I wonder: since only Margarita has suffered on this trip, do women bring bad luck to ships or do the ships bring bad luck to women?

…

-x-

June 11

…

My daughter moved out of the captain's quarters and into our sickbay, also known as my glorified supply closet. There is enough room for a one person to lay down, maybe two if you re-arrange the crates and do not mind the lack of personal space. There is also a porthole (although no cannon to go with it, due to the medical nature of the room) offering light and fresh air.  
Margarita's fever went down, but now she refuses to let me perform even the most simple of check ups on her. That worries not only the doctor part of me, but also the father. She acts strange and almost never speaks. Every time I go see her she only sits and stares out the porthole. I worry about …

-x-

June 21  
We docked into port two days ago. We will be here for two more weeks before heading to our next stop in …  
I tried to get Margarita off the ship, but found that her legs were locked together as if rope had been tied around them. She can flex and extend at her hip, knee, and ankle joints, but it pains her to separate her legs. Because of this, my girl is unable to walk. At best she can shuffle around a little bit.  
She asked me with tears in her eyes, "_Papá_, what is wrong with me? My neck is not right and my legs are all bad. Am I going to die?"  
"No," I tried to soothe her. "Of course you are not going to die." Then I pushed her hair to the side to reveal slits along her lower neck. They resembled fish gills so much that sight of them sent a shiver down my spine.  
What is my daughter becoming?  
She must have caught the look on my face because she turned away from me to look out of the porthole. She rubbed the tears out of her eyes and cleared her face of all emotion. She whispered, "I remember scales brushing up against me and feeling warm skin in the cold water."  
I tried to put my arm around her shoulder to comfort her, but Margarita shrugged my arm off. "Look at the bite mark now," she ordered.  
I knelt down on the floor and pushed away the piece of fabric Margarita had tied to cover the mark. Underneath I saw the black mark, though there was a startling new addition: little fish scales were growing around it. It was something that should have been impossible.  
"_Ay Dios mio_," I breathed, trying to think of what I could do.  
Nothing more was said between us. I left the room to go pace the main deck and think.

-x-

June 22  
Margarita is gone.  
While I was off the ship my daughter convinced one of the crew, José, to take her to the deck. She proceeded to jump overboard and into the water. Though José leaped into the water after her, he could not find her and she never surfaced.  
When I returned and was told what happened, I had no idea what to do. My dear Margarita, my eldest daughter, gone? No, impossible! Lost, I wandered over to the sickbay, where I had last seen her. On the floor I found a piece of paper. On it she had written:  
_Dear_ Papá,  
_I need to go now. Tell_ Mamá, _Vulmaro, Zulimar, and María that I love them all very much and miss them. Do not let any of them cry too much because I am not really gone. At the very least, I will always be in your hearts, just like you all are in mine. And do not blame yourself for what what has happened to me,_ Papá. _It is nobody's fault but my own for sneaking away from home and getting myself into this misadventure. It is my fault for going overboard during that storm. It is my fault for catching this mermaid disease._  
_The mermaid disease. That is what I call my condition. I dreamed last night that I had a fish tail in place of my legs, so why not romanticize this malady of mine? Plus, I have scales on my legs, gills on my neck, and the urge to swim. I might as well be a mermaid._  
_I am sorry for leaving you this way. There is nothing left for me on land. I do not know how much worse this mermaid disease will get and I do not want you to obsess over finding a remedy. Live your life and do not worry about me or what might have happened had you done something different._ Que sera, sera.  
_Remember, I love you and always will._  
_With all my affection,_  
_Margarita_

-x-

July 6  
We are back on open waters. We only have a few more short stops in … home soon. It shatters my heart thinking of how the family will react when I tell them of Margarita. Oh, my dear Margarita. I keep looking at the water, hoping to see her. A few times I thought that I saw something in the corner of my eye, but Miguel jokes that I am becoming senile in an attempt to lighten my mood.  
It seems the waters have taken my Margarita from me after all.

* * *

**Feb 28, 2014:** Whew. It feels good to finally be posting this, even though I'm not completely happy with the summary. My life has been pretty crazy, but I think things are starting to settle down a bit so I'll hopefully have time to begin writing again.

Just to be clear, this story is not about Margarita or Marco. It's set in the modern day and will focus on a girl names Kelsea. TMD will be a very mixed-up retelling of Beauty and the Beast (and I'm not just talking about the fact that there are mermaids). I think explaining any more will a bit confusing. Hopefully this crazy idea of mine will actually work. Just bear with me! ;)

Thank you so much for reading. I hope this first chapter isn't horrible/disappointing. If you have any questions, feel free to ask!

-Lauren


	2. 1: Drowning

**The Mermaid Disease**

**1/ Drowning**

Crying while scuba diving is generally inadvisable, but Eric Glass had a good reason to let water into his mask via his tear ducts. He completely believed that he was about to die. He would never see his family again.

Oh God. His family. Everyone was supposed to meet up in a week for his fiftieth birthday. Now, instead of a celebration, they would have a funeral. His funeral. And it was completely his fault. Eric would never be able to see his wife, children, or grandchildren ever again.

He should have known better than to agree to go cave diving despite not having been diving in years. When his buddy became too sick to go, he should have stayed home instead of going solo. When he bumped his elbow and dropped his camera, he should have let it sink, no matter how expensive it might have been. When he saw that the camera was just within reach if he did a little wiggling into a narrow part of the cave, he definitely should have given up. But he didn't.

Eric Glass was an idiot, and because of that he was going to die alone, wedged into an uncomfortably tight spot in a dark cave. To top it off, he was running low on air. He should have been heading back up to the surface by then.

At least he had his camera. Maybe someone would eventually find his body and the pictures he took in his final moments. Not that they'd be any good; his vision was blurry with tears. In fact, his vision was becoming so bad that it looked like the shadows were dancing before his eyes.

No … Wait a second … Surely he must be imagining things now, or else he was seeing the tail of a _damn_ huge fish moving through the shadows.

The man blinked rapidly, trying to get the tears out of his eyes. If he was going to die in this cave, he might as well get a decent picture of this monster.

Eric raised his camera, pointed it towards the shadows where he thought the fish was, and clicked the button. With a flash, the cave lit up. What he saw nearly caused him to spit out his mouthpiece in shock. As it was, he dropped the camera that had, partially, gotten him into this mess.

The creature that was crawling in the darkness towards him _does__ not exist_. He must have died already and was trapped in some kind of hell. Yep. That's it.

Eric Glass passed out when the thing tried talking to him.

-x-

Kelsea Glass was the only one home when the telephone rang late in the afternoon. She did not even glance at the caller ID before picking up the phone. She assumed the incoming call was from one of her parents checking up on her (Though it was not like she needed checking up. She was eighteen years old, for Pete's sake!) or one of her siblings calling about her dad's birthday party.

The call was not from anyone in her family; it was about her father's disappearance while cave diving earlier that day.

Kelsea was normally the one asking a million questions, but for once in her life she was stunned speechless. She could only listen as the man on the other end of the phone explained that her father had been seen preparing to dive earlier that day. He never surfaced. Considering how much gas his air tanks contained, he should have returned. At that moment officials were trying to gather a volunteer group of divers to investigate what had happened.

She knew what the man on the phone meant to say: They wanted to recover a body.

When the mostly one-sided conversation ended, the girl called her mom. The call was much shorter than the previous one as her mom rushed off to the park where the underwater cave was.

With the reality of the situation finally sinking in, Kelsea studied a framed picture on the nightstand next to her bed. It was of Kelsea and her father on the beach in front of their house. Their blonde hair (well, his was going white) shone in the bight Florida sunlight and their matching gray eyes sparkled with laughter at some forgotten joke.

They looked so happy.

Tears began to flood Kelsea's eyes. She grabbed the picture and held it close as she sat on her bed and sobbed.

-x-

It took Eric a minute to realize that he was actually alive. Truth be told, it was the slight headache that made him realize that he was amongst the living. Nothing like a little pain to make one self-aware.

He was lying on the cold, wet floor of a cavern. Light seemed to be coming in through somewhere above. The sound of water dripping was a bit irritating, but understandable considering the pool of water on the left.

A few things confused him. He had no idea how he had gotten to this particular location considering his predicament when he was last conscious. Also, he had not the faintest idea where his equipment might have gone. A missing camera was easy enough to explain, but two gas tanks was a bit more difficult, especially considering how they had been strapped on to him so well.

The confused man sat up and pulled off the hood of his diving suit. He ran a hand through his hair and asked himself, "How?"

"How?" repeated a masculine voice not belonging to Eric. "You are going to have to be more specific than that."

Surprised, Eric looked around, trying to find the speaker. "Who are you?" Eric asked when he realized that he wasn't going to find whoever spoke. It was just too dark and there were too many shadows in this stupid place.

"You are changing the question."

"_How_, then," Eric said, "did I get here?"

A laugh echoed through the chamber, though the original had just been a short bark of laughter. "You were in a tight spot, but a good push freed you. Because you were in a precarious location to be resting, I relocated you to here. I may have been a little rough in the handling, though; you humans are fragile creatures."

The word _human__s_ sent a shiver down Eric's spine. Its use implied that the man talking to him wasn't so much a man as it was a thing. But that made no sense … Unless … Unless it was the creature he thought he had seen before blacking out.

He didn't want that to be true. He wanted to pretend that in his last conscious moments he had imagined something. The vision of dying men can't be that reliable, right?

His headache grew worse.

Eric combed his fingers through his hair one more time before attempting to stand up. He felt too vulnerable, too useless sitting there. Thankfully, there was more than enough room for the man to stand upright.

"Who – no, what are you? And what have you done with my equipment?" Eric asked as he paced.

"You ask too many questions," replied the voice. A pause. Then, softer, the mystery speaker said, "You walk much better than you swim."

The man froze in his place and bit down on his tongue before he said something unwise in his impatience. He resumed pacing a moment later.

"Your belongings are in a chamber beyond your access," said the nonhuman. Its voice was back to its usual volume. "The only way you will be getting them back is if I wish for you to."

"And do wish it?" Eric was afraid he already knew the answer, but he asked anyway.

"No. You shall stay here until I feel otherwise."

Something inside Eric finally snapped. A long string a curses flew out of his mouth. "Release me!" he yelled. "You can't save me just to leave me here to starve! To die and rot!"

At that, a large handful of green stuff was lobbed out of the water and landed by the man's feet with a splat. He jumped back, startled. His gaze moved back and forth between the green at his feet and the rippling water surface.

"It is seaweed and safe to consume," said Eric's captor. "Eat and then go back to rest, human."

The blond man was not sure whether to be insulted by the nasty looking pile or grateful he was receiving any kind of food.

Eric stopped pacing and sat down, knowing that he could not win this fight. He picked at the seaweed but did not eat any. As he did so, he said, "You never told me who or what you are."

"I am an exile," the voice said. "I have forsaken my people just as they have forsaken me.

"Now look upon my form and make of it what you will."

From out of the water emerged something out of myths and stories. Any hope Eric had that he imagined the creature vanished as the creature pushed and pulled itself entirely out of the water.

The top half of the creature mostly resembled a young man of about twenty years. Dark hair – either dark brown or black, Eric couldn't tell because it was soaked – hung down to just past the chin. Its eyes reflected the little light of the chamber so well that they glowed gold.

What was inhuman about the upper half of the thing was clear because it was bare chested. Gill slits like those of a shark were located at the junction of its neck and shoulders and webbing was located between its fingers. At the creature's elbows, the spines of fins protruded so that when the arm was straight the fin was folded nearly flat against the arm; when its arm was bent the fin was spread open like a fan.

In place of legs, it had a powerful tail of gray scales.

Merman.

Eric hadn't realized that he had spoken out loud until it nodded and turned around. This allowed Eric to see the scales that covered most of its back and the large fin than ran down his spine.

Before the merman went completely in the water it said, "We shall speak more tomorrow." With that, it dove under and vanished from sight.

The man sighed and turned his attention to the seaweed. He really was hungry, so he tried to eat some. He choked seaweed down with a grimace and then leaned back against a wall.

Light still came in from above, so Eric knew that it was not night yet. Nevertheless, he closed his eyes and attempted to rest, seeing as there was nothing else to do but twiddle his thumbs.

-x-

It took Eric forever to fall asleep and the sleep he did get was poor. Sleeping on the cold, hard ground did that to people.

When the next morning came, the blond man found a new pile of seaweed on the ground next to him. He left it there even though he was hungry.

His thoughts returned to his family. By now they would have noticed that he hadn't come home. Maybe they'd have sent in the rescue divers by now, not that divers would have found him alive if he hadn't been saved by the merman. If the divers had gone through the underwater cave already, they definitely missed him.

Regardless, by now his family would have thought him dead.

Gah! He wished there was some way for him to tell his family that he was alive. He'd scream it to the heavens if it meant that an angel would overhear him and pass on the message. (Hey, if fish-men were real then why not people with wings?)

That gave Eric an idea. There was a hole somewhere at the top of the cavern, so maybe if he yelled loud enough someone would hear him. It was a long shot, but worth a try. He leaped to his feet, cupped his hands around his mouth. He was about to yell for all he was worth when he heard the voice.

"No one will hear you, human."

Eric's hands dropped down to his sides as he looked down at the merman. "What do you want?"

The creature raised an eyebrow. "To talk, perhaps strike a deal or two."

"And what do you want to talk about today?" Eric crossed his arms.

"Why is it so important that you return to your people?"

The man's brow furrowed. Was the thing seriously asking him that? He missed being in the sunlight, being dry, eating real food. But most of all: "My people!" Eric threw up his arms in exasperation. "My family needs me."

"I doubt that," the merman said with a sneer. "Why did you nearly die if your family needs you?"

"It was just a stupid accident. I wanted my camera back so I could give pictures to my daughter. I figured she's put a nice one in her journal."

"You have a daughter?"

"Three."

The merman's eyes gleamed with mischievousness at this. "I believe it it time to begin dealmaking."

Eric stared, saying nothing. His stomach growled. It made him mentally wince at the bad timing, but he tried not to externally acknowledge the noise.

"I shall let you give your daughter the pictures. From the moment you leave this cave you will have three days for you or one of your daughters to go into gulf water. No one will die if someone willingly comes to me."

The merman grinned. Its smile was so large that for the first time, Eric saw that it had long and pointy canine teeth. There was not a doubt that the creature could pack a mean bite.

_Bastard_.

-x-

Crying while mourning for a lost father is generally understandable, but Kelsea Glass had a good reason to refuse to cry. She completely believed that her father wouldn't want her to be sobbing her eyes out any more. The girl gave herself one day to cry all of her tears, and after that she refused to let even one tear run down her pale cheek.

Well, until her dad's body was recovered, anyway. Until then, it didn't feel like he was gone for good.

Kelsea closed her journal after not being able to write a single word for over half an hour. She sighed and wondered what her father would be saying if he could see her now. Probably something like "it's Sunday afternoon, you should be finished with your homework by now."

She rummaged through her backpack for a moment before finding a packet she had to read and answer questions on for homework. She could almost certainly get an extension on the assignment if she wanted to, but at that second she wanted a distraction.

"'The following excerpts are from the journal of Marco Marendilla, the doctor of a Spanish merchant ship in the late seventeenth century,'" Kelsea started reading. When she got to the end of the reading, she nearly tossed the packet into the trash.

Mermaids do not exist, and anything that implies they do is junk.

* * *

**July 22, 2014: **This chapter is dedicated firstly to my friend Aimee, and secondly to anyone who has waited ever so patiently for this update. Thanks for your support and sorry about the wait.

This chapter was hard to write. I began writing more than _five_ different versions of this chapter before realizing that none of them actually started at the beginning! I'm still surprised that I wrote so little about Kelsea and so much about our merman. I promise that in the next chapter we will see much more of Kelsea (and less crying, too).

Please let me know if you spot any mistakes (grammatical or otherwise) or have any questions/comments. I'm super nervous to know what you all think.

Thank you so much for reading!

-Lauren


	3. 2: Biting

**Note: **I changed one word last chapter so the last bit in Chapter 1 was set on Sunday _afternoon_ instead of Sunday night.

* * *

**The Mermaid Disease**

**2/Biting**

The ringing of a doorbell gave Kelsea an excuse to stop doing (more like staring at) her homework. She left her room to answer the door just to find that her mom beat her to it. She even had her arms wrapped around the visitors already.

"What are you two doing here?" her mom asked as she released the young women. "I thought you weren't going to arrive for a few more days."

Kelsea quickly recognized the two as her older sisters, Victoria and Elizabeth. The pair of twenty-two year olds were some of the most beautiful, radiant people she knew. They had silvery-blonde hair – as compared to Kelsea's golden-blonde – and deep blue eyes that always sparkled with joy. Almost always, anyway; right then the smiles on their faces didn't completely reach their eyes.

Victoria, the one who kept her hair trimmed in a stylish bob, replied first. "We cancelled our other plans," she said with a shrug. "Figured we were needed more at home, you know?"

"Hey, is that Kelsea?" the twin with longer hair said upon spotting her little sister. "Get over here and welcome your favorite sibling home."

"Well then move out of my way so she can say hello to me," Victoria countered.

Some things never changed. Kelsea chuckled and responded, "Oh, are our brothers behind you?" They actually did have brothers, which made the playful question all the better.

Neither of the twins could make a comeback before their mom ushered them into the living room. Kelsea took a seat between her sisters on the long couch as their mom sat down in an armchair.

The room was quiet for a moment. No one wanted to bring up the painful subject of Eric Glass yet. Then, unable to take the silence anymore, Mrs. Glass started asking about the twins' three hour drive home from college. It was a boring topic, but a safe one. After that they touched upon a range of subjects, none of them meaningful in any way.

It wasn't until her mom left to grab some drinks from the kitchen that Kelsea allowed the smile to drop from her face. Hesitantly, she asked, "Do you think they'll find … him?"

Kelsea didn't know what she should have expected, but she didn't expect a tearfest. The twins were crying and even her mom began to weep once she returned to the room. As soon as the older woman started telling stories, everything became too much for Kelsea. She had to leave before she started bawling. She wasn't going to cry anymore.

Without another word, Kelsea ran out of the room. She didn't stop running until she was out of the house and sitting on the sandy beach. It was a bit chillier than usual for mid-March in Central Florida, but the view was amazing. The sun was just beginning to set over the Gulf of Mexico, filling the sky with pinks and oranges.

Kelsea loved living on the Florida Gulf Coast. She and her father used to build sandcastles all the time and their collection of shells could still be found in a pile near the steps leading up to the house.

The teenager guessed she had maybe another two minutes before someone came outside to fetch her, so Kelsea listened to the waves beat upon the shore as she watched the sun set. The girl spotted a green flash above the sun for a second but did not have enough time to react to the sight when a large, masculine hand landed heavily on her shoulder.

Kelsea yelped and shrugged the hand off. Not even bothering to turn around, she pushed off the sand and bolted towards the water. The shallows would slow her down a bit, but she could swim like a fish as soon as she reached got in deeper.

"No! Stop!"

She was in waist-deep water by the time it clicked that she recognized the voice. She stopped swimming away and slowly turned around. Kelsea had a look of shock on her face as she confirmed the improbable: Her dad was alive.

It was as if Kelsea and her dad had swapped places, much to Kelsea's chagrin. She stood in the gulf wearing clothes not made for swimming while the man on the shore wore a wet suit and diving equipment. It would have been amusing if not for that moments ago she had believed him dead. The shock kept her frozen in place.

How in the world was he there on the beach? Kelsea voiced the question.

"Get out of the water right now, Kelsea," Eric ordered. He knew what lurked under the waves and he didn't want his daughter anywhere near the thing.

But Kelsea did not understand the worried look on her dad's face. If anything, she was the one who had the right to worry! Still, she nodded and began to wade ashore. She hardly even flinched when she felt scales brush up against the side of her leg, seeing as how she was used to the occasional fish bumping into her.

One of her father's bear hugs was sorely needed, so Kelsea wrapped her arms around him and held him close, as if she was afraid he would vanish before her eyes.

"Kelsea, honey?" her mother called out. She walked "We tried to give you some space but you need to come inside now. It's going dark soon and – Kelsea?"

Eric's back had been to the house, so when he released his daughter to see his wife, Kelsea didn't get to see the look on his face. However, she did hear him breathlessly say, "Jane." Then he ran over to the woman and embraced her. The man spun her around a few time before proceeding to kiss his wife.

Kelsea walked back inside the house to give the couple some space and to share the news with her sisters. She didn't even realize she was crying until her sisters asked what was wrong.

-x-

The celebration did not last very long. It turned out that there was much to be done due Eric turning up alive. First came the phone calls had to be made to friends, family, and everyone involved in the investigation.

Meanwhile, Kelsea took a quick shower to wash the saltwater off. As soon as she was dry and wearing clean pajamas, she left her room expecting to get some answers from her father. She found that he had gone to take his own shower and the rest of her family was still making calls.

Elizabeth was the first person to hung up.

"Kels," she said, "you should probably go to your room. Dad is really tired so I don't think that he will be up to your interrogation."

This made Kelsea frown. "Can't I help do something, Lizzy? I can grab my phone and make some calls, too."

Elizabeth shook her head. "No, we're about finished. Do your homework or write in your journal. Mom is still making you go to school tomorrow."

Kelsea crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at her older sister. "Am I not going to find out what happened to Dad until I watch the Monday night news along with everyone else? You don't have to treat me like a child."

Her voice was rising a bit too much, and Kelsea's mother gave her a pointed look before ending her call. In a stern tone she said, "Kelsea Glass, calm yourself. You'll get your answers soon."

Eric walked into the room. He was wearing a loose t-shirt and shorts which was probably a nice change from the wet diving suit. "As tired as I am," he said, "I think I can stay awake long enough to tell you all what happened."

Kelsea wasn't expecting to hear that. She motioned for him to continue, but they waited for Victoria to finish up with her last phone call before the storytelling to start,

The man settled himself down in an armchair and looked everyone in the eye. "As far as anyone else is concerned," – What was _that_ supposed to mean? – "I got lost in the caves and found chambers with shafts leading to the surface. In those caverns I could breathe and rest. I found my way out was by following a fish, which led me to the beach a few miles down."

Eric took a sip from a cup of water and eyed everyone else in the house warily. Not a word was said as the women waited to hear what he had to say. Kelsea was literally sitting on the edge of her seat.

"But that isn't the true story. You're going to think I'm absolutely insane, but something was there with me." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I got stuck and the thing saved me. It kept me as a prisoner in a cavern I had to deal with it before it showed me how to get out."

Kelsea's mind was swarming with questions, but her mother asked one first: "What deal did you make?"

Eric shook his head and refused to meet anyone's eyes. "It doesn't matter, but stay out of the water for a few days."

Kelsea wasn't sure if her dad was actually going to give a straight answer after that last vague one, but she couldn't help but ask, "Can you describe who saved you?"

"What."

"What?"

Eric rubbed his forehead. "A person did not save me. _It_ was a merman."

Kelsea burst out laughing. Her dad had a history of telling tall tales and this one definitely took the cake. It was sick, really, joking about how he survived.

Victoria, Elizabeth, and Kelsea's mother all showed more concern than the youngest person in the room. They asked if he was feeling all right and told him that it was time to get some rest.

Eric knew that none of his family believed him. Maybe it was better that way. "You're right," he said. "I need sleep."

"Sorry for laughing, Dad," Kelsea said as he started walking away, even though she completely that sorry. "Good night."

Her dad dug something out of his pocket and tossed it back at Kelsea. Unfortunately, her coordination was not all that great and she dropped the thing she tried so hard to catch. She picked it off the floor and studied the small container.

"It's for you," the man said. "It has the pictures I took. Get the film developed tomorrow after school. Okay, pumpkin?"

"Got it, Dad. I love you."

"Love you too."

-x-

It was the last week before Spring Break and Kelsea was expecting all of the teachers to pile on homework and last-minute tests. Instead, it was more like there was not enough work. The extra time for socializing left Kelsea feeling like a creature being dissected. She was normally the one asking the questions, not receiving them.

She hated being the center of attention. Only a few students, most of them her friends, asked her directly about what happened to her father, if she was feeling okay, why she was at school. The others simply talked around her with varying degrees of subtlety.

The one redeeming fact about being forced to go to the hellhole known as high school was that she was with her friends. It was nice hearing their plans for Spring Break.

Still, she was happy when the final bell rang and she could leave.

"Kelsea, wait up!" One of Kelsea's oldest friends jogged over beside her as she headed towards the parking lot. "Everyone's meeting at the boardwalk; do you want to join us? We're going to get ice cream."

"Sorry, Mercedes, I can't. I need to run to the store and get some pictures developed."

The tall, dark-skinned girl rolled her eyes at her short, pale friend. "Oh, come on! You can at least hang out with us while you wait."

Next thing she knew, Kelsea had dropped off the roll of film and was standing at the end of a floating dock. Her four friends were finishing up their melting ice cream (Kelsea herself wasn't hungry) and pointing out yachts they did or did not like.

One boy, Tyler, thought he was being funny by pretending to push Mercedes into the water. She squealed and actually pushed him in retaliation. Kelsea and the others laughed at Tyler's flabbergasted face when he surfaced.

Kelsea helped pull the wet boy back on to the dock. He dramatically flopped down on the wood and gasped, "I'm dying! I need a pretty lady to give me mouth-to-mouth."

"In your dreams, Tyler," Kelsea said.

"Cool it, Casanova," said Sam, the other guy in the group. "I'll drive you home. I think I may have a towel in my car."

Jaime groaned. Sam was also her ride, so she didn't have much of a choice but to go, too. Tyler slung a still-dripping arm over her shoulder, earning him a hit upside the head from Jaime.

When Sam, Tyler, and Jaime left, Mercedes decided that she might as well leave. "Unless you want me to keep you company," she added.

"Nah, my pictures should be ready soon," Kelsea said. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay, text me if you need anything."

And so Kelsea was the last one remaining on the dock. She smiled, thinking how uncomplicated her friends made everything seem. She could forget about her stressful weekend when she was around them.

But since they were gone she looked down at the murky water and couldn't help but wonder why her father was insistent that she stayed on dry land. He definitely could not have seen a merman, but maybe his bad experience in the caves paired with a sighting of a large fish scared him.

Feeling a mix of curiosity and rebelliousness, Kelsea kicked her flip flops aside and sat down at the edge of the dock. The girl submerged her feet, trepidation suddenly running through her as she did so.

A minute passed. Not a single thing happened.

Kelsea released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Her dad's irrationality was brushing off on her. There was nothing to be afraid of.

She let her guard down so far that when a head popped up out of the water she just about had a heart attack. As it was, she cursed loudly. "What is wrong with you? Don't sneak up on people like that!"

The swimming man looked mildly surprised at her reaction but remained silent as she observed him. Kelsea couldn't help but think he was kind of good looking. He had an oval-shaped face with a prominent chin and framed by long, dark hair. Deep-set golden eyes sparkled in the sunlight.

"You know," Kelsea finally said when she calmed down, "it might not be a good idea to swim here. A boat might hit you. Why don't you get out of the water?" What in the world was getting into her? This guy could be a complete psycho.

"I thank you for your concern, but it is unnecessary," he said. (Now that was a voice that Kelsea could listen to all day long!) "Besides, I am unable to join you due to my tail." He swam back and flicked up the tail so the fin could be seen just below the surface.

The fates must have been conspiring against Kelsea. First she had to read a paper on a so-called "mermaid disease," then her dad insisted a merman kept him captive, and now a cute guy was swimming around in a fake mermaid (merman?) tails.

From the quick glimpse she got, it looked like the tail was pretty well made. It was one of the more convincing ones she had seen, and she had seen more than her fair share of them. She did not want to know how much he had spent to get it made or why he was swimming where no one could see it.

"Why are you swimming around here?" Kelsea asked.

"Looking for you." He said it so matter-of-factly that Kelsea almost didn't register how creepy it was.

"Whoa, why me? Did my dad put you up to this? Mercedes? No, she didn't hear Dad's story … "

While Kelsea rambled on, the merman-wannabe took the opportunity to bite her leg. Kelsea shouted and scrambled away from the water.

"What the fuck?" she yelled. "Did you just bite me?" There were two puncture wounds on the side of her leg, and the skin was darkening into an angry red where he bit her. Not only did he think he was a merman, he was a vampire, too.

"Aye," he said with an infuriating smirk. "Tell your father that the deal is complete. I will see you again in three weeks."

What. The. Fuck. "Don't you dare ever get near me again or I'll call the cops, got it?"

"You ask too many questions," he said. The creep then had the gall to laugh. "And _you_ will be the one coming to _me_." As soon as the last word came out of his mouth, his head sunk down and Kelsea assumed he swam away. Good riddance.

The injured girl slipped her flip-flops on and slowly walked back to her car, thinking about what she would say to her father for trying to pull off such a stupid prank. She drove to the store, where she bought antibiotic ointment and band-aids for her leg.

After that, she picked up the printed photographs and flipped through them. Most were of rocks and cave walls. The last two were interesting, though, despite being completely out of focus. One of them had a long fish tail with the body and head out of frame. The other was a blurry close-up of a person's face, but the face definitely wasn't her father's. If anything, the man in the picture looked like the guy who bit her.

* * *

**August 9, 2014: **I'm heading off to college in a week. Wow. Time sure flies!

I stood up late trying to finish writing this chapter last night and fell asleep halfway through the last sentence. The last paragraph was complete gibberish and had to be re-written. Haha, oops!

Thank you so much to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed, and/or favorited TMD (or me for that matter). You are all so amazing and kind.

To the **guest** that reviewed: This heart of this story is Beauty and the Beast so if I do my job right you'll see many connections. Besides the fact that this story has mermaids, the mixed-up/twisted part is _where_ you see the BatB elements, especially later in the story. (I love parallelism.) And whoops! I'll have to keep an eye out for those typos if/when I go back and edit.

Thanks for reading!

-Lauren


	4. 3: Changing

**The Mermaid Disease**

**3/Changing**

As Kelsea drove home, she couldn't help but think how much she _didn't_ want to see her father immediately after she returned. She blamed her dad for causing a maniac biting her leg (because who else's fault could it possible be?). Any other day she would have confronted him about the stupid scheme he was trying to pull. The last few days had emotionally drained her, so she anticipated forgiving her father in a day or two to move on with her life.

The pictures she had gotten developed rested in a messy pile in the passenger seat. The out-of-focus picture with the person lied on the top. She should have thrown it away.

Of course, Kelsea's plan to avoid her dad ended quickly. She pulled into the driveway and he greeted her first as she walked through the door.

"Did you see the pictures?" he asked. Not "how was your day?" or something along that line. Kelsea blinked. Eric waited eagerly for her response, evident only by the wild glint in his eyes. His face was otherwise calm and his voice unwavering. "Well?" he prompted.

"Yes, I did. They were okay," the girl said with a shrug. She reached into her backpack, grabbed the pictures she had tossed in less than a minute ago, and handed them to her dad.

She attempted to move past the man, but he blocked her path and exclaimed, "This is it! The one I took of the monster in the cave, right before I blacked out!"

"Interesting," she said, not sounding at all interested. "I'm going to do homework now."

"Take a good look at this picture, Kelsea. I know it's blurry, but if you see something in the water that looks like this thing, stay away. The creature is dangerous." He held the photos towards her and she took them.

The wild shine had gone out of his eyes and had been replaced with a seriousness Kelsea hardly ever saw from her dad. What game was he trying to play? In her great confusion she could not help but to say, "I met a guy pretending wearing a fish tail down by the docks earlier." She pointed to the photograph in discussion. "I think he looked like this, but it's hard to tell because the picture is so blurry."

Whoops. Did she just indulge him in his weird delusion?

If Eric looked serious before, he now looked dead serious. His eyes narrowed and he let out a curse. "Did it say anything?"

"He said your deal is complete and not too much else." It probably would not have been wise to say he had also bitten her, so she omitted that part.

The color drained out of the blond's face in a split second. Kelsea had no idea what to make of the sight of her dad. He appeared too afraid to be pulling a prank. Maybe an elaborate hoax was being played _on_ him? But who would go to through all this trouble? Either the Glasses had gone crazy or some maniac puppeteer was trying to make them dance.

"I'm going to do my homework now," Kelsea repeated.

"Yes," Eric said softly as he nodded. "Go do your homework."

After fleeing to her room, Kelsea journaled, read a bit, and finished all her work. Then came dinner, which consisted of turkey burgers, steamed veggies, and small-talk with the family. The rest of her Monday was – in a word – uneventful.

Things took a turn for the worse Tuesday morning. At precisely six o'clock Kelsea rolled out of bed to get ready for school. No more than five minutes later she sat on the floor of her bathroom retching over the toilet.

"Mom," Kelsea cried hoarsely between dry heaves. "Mom!"

Instead of Kelsea's mom, Victoria showed up first. (Or at least she hoped it was Victoria, the medical student, and not her other sister, the law student. She couldn't tell because her head was in a toilet bowl.) "Oh Kelsea," the twin (Yup. Vicky.) sighed as she held her younger sibling. She placed her hand on Kelsea's head. "You're burning up. Let's get you back in bed. I'll grab the ibuprofen."

Kelsea groaned as she pushed herself off the ground. She felt like shit. Actually, that would be putting it too lightly; she felt more like shit that had been trampled on by a horse and then left in the blistering heat. Her head pounded. Her throat felt scratchy. Hell, even her legs itched, especially around the bite mark.

Victoria escorted the teenager back to her bedroom and rushed out of the room to get medicine for her sick sister. Kelsea stumbled towards her bed and rolled in the fetal position on top of the covers. She felt too hot, too cold, too uncomfortable to move.

The door opened, and Kelsea's mother walked in with Victoria. "She can't go to school today," Kelsea overheard. She perceived a cool hand on her forehead. Heard tsking. "I'll call her in sick." Footsteps. Forced into a sitting position. Swallow pills. Taste like gold. Sleep. Dreams. Water. Fins. Golden eyes.

-x-

Kelsea hummed in protest as her mom gently shook her awake. Her mother joggled her a little bit harder. "What?" she groaned.

"You need to wake up and eat," her mom replied, pointing to the soup she had left on Kelsea's nightstand.

The girl yawned and began to stretch. The movement caused her to become aware of how much everything still hurt and itched. She must have grimaced because her mom got that classic "concerned mother" look.

"Are you feeling any better? You don't feel nauseous, do you?" Jane Glass put her hand on her daughter's forehead. "You are a bit warm, but your temperature has definitely gone down.

"I'm fine. Stop fussing," Kelsea said. "Getting a little food in me will probably help." Or she hoped some soup would help with her itchy throat; it wouldn't be good for much else. At least her nausea and fever were mostly gone. Her mom seemed satisfied with the answer. She asked a few more general questions before leaving Kelsea alone with her soup.

Kelsea swallowed a few spoonfuls of soup (which needed more salt) before her cell phone began vibrating. She reached over to grab it and found that her friends had blown up her phone with texts. They had created a group text, so there was an absurd amount of jokes speculating what had happened to her. She texted everyone back that she was sick. (No, she wasn't dead or going to die. Please tell her what she missed in her classes.)

The blonde girl grew bored after awhile, so she left her bedroom (slowly) to go to the living room. Elizabeth and her mom were already in the room while Kelsea's dad was presumably at work and Victoria was nowhere to be seen. Kelsea plopped down on the couch next to Elizabeth, who was watching a wedding show. The movement caused Kelsea's mom to look up from the book she was reading from the armchair she sat in.

"Hello there, Kels," her mom said. "How was the soup?"

"It needed salt," the girl replied matter-of-factly as she pulled her legs up on the couch and placed them on her sister's lap. Victoria stuck her tongue out and moved to push Kelsea's legs off her when she saw the bite mark. She grabbed her little sister's leg and twisted them so she could get a better view.

"Wow, what in the world did you do to your leg?" Victoria asked.

Kelsea scowled. She was not about to tell people that a merman had bit her leg and risk sounding absolutely insane. "I was by the docks yesterday and got scratched. That's all." She moved so that her legs were tucked under her and the puncture wounds could not be seen.

Victoria raised an eyebrow. "Okay, whatever you say. Please tell me that you didn't scratch yourself with something rusty."

"No. I don't have tetanus," Kelsea said with an eye roll.

"Just checking," Victoria said, raising her hands in defense. "Although you should put something on that."

"When are Freddy, James, and Hank getting here?" Kelsea asked her mom, quickly changing the subject. She hoped her brothers were still coming for her dad's birthday over the weekend.

The older woman replied that Hank planned on arriving on Friday and James and Freddie would drive in early on Saturday. Kelsea could live with that.

Victoria nudged Kelsea with her elbow. "Let's pray that you aren't sick when they get here or else we're going to have to quarantine you to keep everyone from catching the ick."

"If I'm contagious then there's a good chance you already caught it from me, so we'll be stuck in quarantine together. Lucky you!" she said. Victoria sighed.

-x-

By the end of the day, Kelsea's fever left and her mother declared her safe to go to school the next day. "Maybe you ate something bad," her mom said and promised to send her daughter with homemade food to school.

Kelsea woke up on Wednesday feeling completely fine. She didn't have nausea, so her morning was already much better. The girl grabbed a thermometer from the bathroom and took her temperature to be on the safe side, and found that she measured a hair under one hundred degrees Fahrenheit. She swallowed an ibuprofen and went to school with no problem.

Wednesday bled into Thursday, and Thursday into Friday. Her temperature hovered just below one hundred degrees, but did not go over. She still had the itches around her leg and throat. The bite mark had turned into a frustrating reminder of the incident that got her it because the punctures were not healing properly. For some reason, they darkened to black. And on top of all that, everything she ate needed salt. Her friends thought her insane for adding more salty to the salted fries served at lunch.

After school on Friday (which felt entirely too long since Friday was the last day before Spring Break) Kelsea went home and saw a motorcycle parked by her house. She ran inside to find Hank in the middle of telling on of his wild stories to her family.

Henry "Hank" Glass was the tallest of the Glasses, standing over six feet tall. He was twenty-five years old and had the energy of a five year old. Once upon a time his hair had been completely dirty blond, but in more recent times he had dyed the tips of his fauxhawk a bright blue. He claimed it brought out the blue in his eyes.

"She told me it was gonna hurt like hell," Hank said, "and, man, it really hurt like hell but I think it turned out fucking awesome." Just lovely, he had gotten another tattoo by the sound of it.

"I am surprised that Mom hasn't tried washing your dirty mouth out with soap yet," Kelsea said, causing her brother to get startled and jump. After regaining his balance, he turned around and tackled his sibling.

"She tried, but the short old lady couldn't reach high enough," the young man joked, winking at his mom as he said so.

Since he was bent down to hug his little sister, his mother had an easy time thumping him on the head. She said, "I am more than tall enough to twist your ear, Henry Glass. Don't make me do it."

Hank straightened himself up and ruffled Kelsea's hair. A few pleasantries were exchanged before her brother launched back into a story about his adventures since they had last seen each other. Kelsea only interrupted every couple of minutes to ask a question. Finally, as the catching-up began to draw to a close, Hank turned to Kelsea and asked if she wanted to walk on the beach.

"I'd rather not," she said, thinking of the merman-person (would "merman/person" be a better way of putting it?), "but for you, I suppose I could."

"I almost forgot," Hank said, "you just finished interrogating me, so you probably want to go reflect upon your discoveries in your journal. Would you like me to help you make a diagram or chart presentation as well?"

"Hardy-har-ha." Kelsea crossed her arms and shook her head. "I said we could go for a walk so let's walk." She rolled up the bottom of her jeans and kicked off her shoes. She had hardly gotten the second shoe off before she started to run out of the room and shout, "Last one to the shore is a rotten egg!"

The man had to remove his shoes, so the girl had such a big head-start that she beat her long-legged brother with ease. As water and sand tickled her toes, she glanced at the calm gulf and wondered if _he_ waited out there. No, don't be ridiculous. What were the odds that he would be lurking around her house? Tiny. Infinitesimally small. She had never been afraid of the water before, and she had no reason to be frightened now. Her dad's crap and her recent experiences had messed with her mind.

"That was unfair and you know it," Hank said as he came up from behind Kelsea. "Time to get walking, little cheater."

They talked about useless things like the weather and Kelsea's college application process. "How's your love life?" Hank asked at one point, to which Kelsea responded, "Better than yours, I'm sure. How many girlfriends have you gone through last month? Three?"

"Four," Hank corrected with a dismissive wave of his hand, "but that last one was only for a day because I got drunk and made out with her brother. His lips were prettier than hers."

The man from the docks had nice lips too.

The pair strolled about a mile down the shore from the house when Hank started stripping. Kelsea did not had time to ask the young man what he was doing before he charged into the chilly waves wearing only his boxers. "Who's the rotten egg now?" he shouted.

"Still you." No one could pay her enough to follow her brother. No doubt the water was too cold. Unfortunately, Hank did not seem to comprehend that. He swam ashore, threw his sister over her shoulder, and walked straight back into the water (despite that she was fully clothed. The idiot was lucky she wasn't wearing anything nice).

Kelsea broke free from Hank's grip and realized that she was not freezing her butt off. In fact, the water felt perfectly comfortable. Who would have thought? She could have sworn the temperature readings were well below her liking.

If you can't beat them, join them? Kelsea began to swim out towards a buoy, hoping that Hank would just follow her. Instead, when she reached the floating bell and turned around, she found him waving to her from the sandy shore. "Kels, I saw something huge! I think it's a shark!"

It would be difficult (though not impossible) to climb on top of the buoy due to the sharp barnacles growing on the side. She'd have to swim. She took a few deep breaths and then moved as quickly as she possible could towards where her brother stood waiting for her.

Kelsea didn't make it far before something wrapped around her ankle. The startled teenager released her breath and breathed in salty water while she faced down, causing her to splutter. The blonde kicked, twisted, and squirmed but she still felt it on her leg. At least she did not feel any pain and the thing didn't tug on her. The only problem was that she could not swim forward. She reached down and felt a hand. That hand did not connect to Hank so who…? Oh no.

"Hank!" Kelsea shouted. She tried her best she sound calm. "I'm going to climb on to the buoy." The man instructed her to be careful.

Rather than jerking her leg away from the mystery hand, she slowly moved back maybe a yard. She worried that there would be some resistance to her movements as she climbed on to the floating hunk of metal, but instead it felt more l ike she was helped up. The hand let go once she sat down, and she pulled her legs out of the water as much as she could.

"Are you okay?" Hank shouted.

"Yes," she replied. "Can you run inside and get me a towel?" She didn't have to ask twice before he scooped up his clothes off the sand and ran towards home. He looked ridiculous.

A familiar dark-haired head popped out of the water. "You came back sooner than I expected."

Kelsea felt her face grow hot. "Why?" she asked. Why did he grab her? Why did he bite her? Why was he here? _Why_?

"I told you three weeks and yet you are here less than one week later," he said. "Your gills have not even come in. It will cause some complications, but we can work around that."

Nothing made any sense. Her head hurt. Her leg itched. Her neck itched. Wait … "Did you say gills?"

"Indeed. When I claimed you as my own by biting you, I injected a venom that is coursing through your body. Your legs are fusing into a tail and you are forming gills. Vast improvements in my opinion."

She could not believe this person was simply crazy. Kelsea began to think he told the truth. "Why me? I din't ask for this. I never went to you, you came to me. I'm not going anywhere with you. I don't even know you." Her eyes watered up. She nearly moved to wipe away the tears, but she stopped herself because her hands were wet and salty. Her pitiful situation depressed her.

The merman pretended not notice the girls's struggle. "All waters are my domain," he said. "By approaching water, you approached me. I am taking you into my domain to claim a debt that is owed to me. Come with me willingly and I will promise nothing will happen to your family. Resist and I can promise nothing."

He reached up and ran a finger around the blackened bite marks he left on her leg. He murmured something ab out her healing well before moving his hand a little higher along her leg where she was bleeding. Kelsea must have nicked herself on a barnacle. He gently washed away the blood that was running down her leg, which caused the cut to sting.

The merman's actions drew Kelsea's attention to his hands. Webbing linked his fingers together. Then she spotted fins along his elbow. Her eyes flew up to his neck and she discerned gills. How did she not notice the little details before? Her dad warned her, but she ignored him.

"Fine," she said, upset. "You are a beast, a monster."

The merman brushed off the insult. "Be careful who you call a beast. You are about to turn into one yourself."

When Hank came running out of the house, Kelsea was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

**November 15, 2014:** The amount of time that has passed since I last updated makes me really upset. I'm terribly sorry for the long wait. I'm at college and joined a sorority so I've been pretty busy. I'm hoping that the next chapter will come out much more promptly than this one did.

This chapter is dedicated to my friend Aimee and to everyone else who has supported me. Thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed, and/or favorited TMD, and a super big thank you to those who have waited so patiently. You are wonderful.

As always, thank you for reading!

-Lauren


	5. 4: Holding

**The Mermaid Disease**

**4/Holding**

The blonde girl carefully maneuvered herself off the buoy and into the water so that she did not scrape against the barnacles again. She winced when her bleeding leg came in contact with the saltwater, but didn't otherwise react to the stinging sensation. She treaded water and glared at the merman. "Well? What's your plan now, fish boy?"

For a second Kelsea thought he would not respond. Any trace of emotion on his face vanished the moment she got in the water. Then he swam so close that Kelsea could feel her personal space bubble burst into a million little pieces. Warm puffs of air landed on her cheek and Kelsea felt something brush against her legs – oh gosh, that was his freaking tail, wasn't it? – but other than that there as no contact between them. If he had been a human, Kelsea would have kneed him between the legs without hesitation. She settled with glaring at him.

The merman ignored her look and murmured, "Place your hands on my shoulders – mind the gills – and hold your breath."

Kelsea opened her mouth to question the command but the merman put his webbed hands on both sides of her waist and gave her a light squeeze, shutting her up.

The young woman rested her hands on his shoulders as far away from the junction between his neck and shoulders as she could get them. (Like hell she'd want to touch those unnatural things.) Then she rolled her eyes and made a big show out of holding her breath.

A slight smirk graced his face before he dove underwater, taking Kelsea with him. The movement startled the human girl and she barely managed to refrain from inhaling out of reflex. She held off the sudden urgent need to breathe by tightening her grip on her captor. He in turn pulled her upper half flush against his torso as he began to kick his tail.

The merman's powerful kicks propelled them through the water, quickly taking them far away from Kelsea's home. To think she had been splashing around with her doofus of an older brother minutes ago. It seemed like a lifetime had passed since then.

She felt the water move across her face and the drag created by her clothes. She felt the water pulses made by the merman's movements. She felt her lungs burn as the need to breathe increased with each passing second.

Kelsea could not hold her breath any longer. Much to the merman's obvious displeasure, she squirmed around. He did not get the hint and kept swimming. Kelsea let go of his shoulders and pushed against him, but he adjusted his grip on her and continued to ignore her. She wanted to throttle the idiot. As her last-ditch effort, she reached up to touch his gills.

The slightest brush of her fingertips on his neck caused the male to let the girl go. Suddenly free, she had no idea what to do. Which way was up?

No sooner had she been freed than she found herself being manhandled by the merman once more. Then they broke the surface. Her lovely reunion with oxygen was soured by his voice. "_Never_ put your grimy human fingers near my gills again or else you will find yourself lacking a few digits."

Kelsea risked looking into fish-boy's gold eyes and couldn't help but become enraged. "I would rather lose some fingers than lose my life, you moron," she seethed. "I don't have gills, in case you have forgotten your own observation."

Snarling, the merman flashed his fangs. "Yet!" And with that one word, the anger seemed to drain out of him. For the first time, Kelsea saw the merman looking just plain tired. He let out a huff and said, "Hold your breath, human. We still have a long way to go."

Kelsea's anger was not as quick to completely dissipate, but neither did she let it consume her. "Can't you swim with me above the surface? You know, like a dolphin?"

The rest of the trip to her new home (or wherever this guy was taking her) was no fancy dolphin ride, but it could have ben worse. Her gilled captor mainly kept his lunged companion above water, but the two swam under the waves in short spurts when he spotted a person or boat.

The swim was long, boring, and silent. Kelsea was beginning to think she would die of boredom when the he said, "We approach our final destination." She immediately filled with relief.

She quickly took in their location. The coast wasn't visible from where they swam, but a spattering or rocky islets jutted out of the water nearby. She wondered if the patches of land were to be her new home as a hostage. With each kick of the merman's tail, Kelsea became more certain.

They approached a crescent-shaped islet that was slightly larger than the others, and also less rocky. White sand lined the perimeter while dense plant growth filled in the land formation. The water not quite encircled by the land was so shallow Kelsea doubted it would reach her waist if she stood there.

The merman avoided the shallows and swam around to the other side of the islet. To Kelsea's surprise, a small cuddy boat came into view. It somehow stood upright despite resting completely on the sand. The boat was nothing large or fancy and it looked like it was missing the engine and propeller, but if it had a little cabin like Kelsea suspected it did then she was already halfway in love with it.

The merman pushed Kelsea away from him when they neared the shore. Kelsea had not been expecting the shove, but quickly recovered from the loss of support when her feet scraped against sand. She began move closer to the islet to stand on higher ground.

"This is your new home," the merman's smooth voice cut through the girl's splashing. "The human vehicle will serve as your private quarters. I presume that a tiny girl will have sufficient space."

"How generous," Kelsea halfheartedly mumbled. Frankly, her face and arms were currently red as lobsters so taking shelter in the shaded cuddy sounded like heaven. Plus, it would be nice to dry out her pruned hands and feet (and the rest of her body).

The merman hovered behind her as she moved closer to shore. Before she could drag herself completely out of the water, Kelsea felt a cool hand grab on to her left leg, right above where the owner of the hand had previously bitten her. The girl tried to shake him off but the combination of her exhaustion and his strength caused her effort to be in vain.

What was up with this guy and her legs? Did he have a leg fetish or something? Probably the "or something" option seeing as he planned to trade her legs for a tail and all.

The sunburnt blonde glared down at the man holding her. "What do you want?"

His tail fin flicked around. Kelsea would have chalked it up to a nervous tick if his gold eyes had not been directed at her coldly. Maybe the tail flicking was an angry tick.

He demanded, "Join me for supper at sundown."

She could not tun him down due to the grip on her leg, but she sure as hell did not want to accept. "We'll see, fish-boy," she said. He gave a curt nod and released her.

Kelsea briskly made her way to the boat. She found the little door to the cuddy and crawled in. There was a sink to one side, but most of the room was taken up by birth tucked in the forward end of the hull. Kelsea collapsed on to the bed and realized that her clothes were soaked. Drenched jeans and a shirt were tossed out into the sun before Kelsea fell asleep.

-x-

The sound of something dragging woke Kelsea up. Night had fallen. She peered into the darkness and screamed once she noticed her fishy nemesis on the ground. One of her arms covered her chest despite the fact that she wore her bra and underwear. The other arm swat at the male.

"Cease that, human," the merman yelled back.

"Pervert! Get out!" Kelsea repeated this until she could not see a single gray scale anymore. When she was sure the merman had gotten off the boat (How did he get up there, anyway?) Kelsea felt around for her clothes. They were still cold and wet, but she donned them because she possessed nothing else.

She marched off the boat and followed the drag marks in the sand until she saw the merman at the water's edge. "You freaking pervert!"

"I am no such thing," the merman scoffed. "Besides, mermaids wear less." So much for clamshell bras.

Kelsea crossed her arms. "What in the world were you trying to do? How did you even get up on the boat?"

"Do I look like a weakling?" he shot back. Kelsea knew he was not weak; she had become closely acquainted with many of his muscles when he carried her away from home. "I pulled myself on to the boat to awake you for an evening meal."

"You could have yelled for me or something instead of being a creep." She kicked at the sand.

He shrugged. "Aye, I attempted to, but you made not a sound. I correctly presumed you were asleep and sought to change that."

"I honest to goodness hate you," Kelsea said. She reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose but the heat radiating off her skin was a warning of her painfully burnt skin. Her hand dropped to her side and fisted.

The finned man's eyes narrowed but his mouth stayed shut. A wise decision, Kelsea thought. She would have filled the silence with another snappy remark but her stomach spoke before she did, loudly grumbling. How embarrassing. The time to swallow a pinch of her pride had come.

"Um … What did you say is for dinner?"

The merman gave her a large handful of slimy seaweed and had expected her to eat it without any complaints. Idiot. Kelsea was being forced to live on a tiny island like some kind of castaway, the least he could do was bring her crab or lobster or even fish. (Not that she had a fire to cook them with; the fishy freak wouldn't even let her make a fire. Then again, she couldn't build a fire or cook for the life of her. Oh fudge, she was going to die.)

After giving him a piece of her mind, Kelsea finally gave in and ate the seaweed because she was starving. It was disgusting and she wanted a drink to rise the foul taste away.

"I hope you have a coconut tucked away," she said.

"And pray tell why would you require a coconut?" the merman asked.

"Besides to chuck it at your thick head?" Kelsea smiled at the thought. "I need something to drink. Saltwater won't cut it and I doubt you have bottled water around here."

No coconuts were miraculously procured (because the merman refused to go search for them – lazy ass), but Kelsea remembered the sink in the boat and decided that she might as well try it out. Luckily, the sink worked fine, indicating that the boat had a tank with freshwater in it. Kelsea had a source of water for at least a little bit longer. She drank her fill, careful not to waste any of the precious water down the drain.

Though the thought of going back to sleep tempted her, Kelsea got off the boat and looked around for the merman in the dark. The moon's light greatly helped.

She found him lying on his stomach where the waves met the shore. He rested on damp sand exposed during low tide. The waves ran up to his waist before receding back. Kelsea could just make out his tail, the gray of an angry thunderstorm cloud. His arms were bent, making the fins at his elbows open all the way. The fin running down his spine rose and fell with each breath he took. His face was turned away from her, giving the girl a good view of his somewhat long, dark hair.

Kelsea walked over to the merman. "Are you awake, coconut head? I have some questions."

He rolled over and sat up, stretching out bit. (Kelsea almost wished it was day so she could better observe the movement of muscles.) The merman then crossed his arms said, "I expected no less. You are your father's daughter."

Kelsea raised a blonde eyebrow. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"You are both curious things, asking many questions. I will answer only a few tonight, human."

"Stop calling me 'human.' I have a name: Kelsea. Use it." She thought for a moment. "And who are you? You have a name, right?"

A faint snicker came from the merman. "I am Izmuir of nowhere and son of no one." He sounded haughty, as if his name and origin prided him. His behavior confused Kelsea, but she kept quiet about it. At least she now had a name to put to the face.

"Is-mew-er," she slowly tested. "Iz-muir. _Izmuir_." She liked the feel of the name, but it did not sound as natural when she said it.

The teenager could have sworn she saw him smile, as if hearing his name on her lips pleased him. "Are you going to say my name all night," he said with a teasing tone, "or do you wish to question me further? I desire sleep at some point."

"What do you plan on doing with me?"

He answered without hesitation. "Make you my companion." The answer was infuriatingly short and vague.

The blonde blurted out, "And that requires you to take me away from home and force me to become a mermaid?"

"Aye."

"But _why_?"

"Why?" the merman repeated, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips. "May it be that one day soon you know."

She threw her arms up in exasperation. "And why is it difficult to get straight answers from you? It's like pulling teeth." To that, Izmuir gave no answer.

The merman slunk away, deeper into the water. Kelsea did not chase after him, instead opting to go to back to the boat. As she tried to sort through her experiences from the day and the new information, the number of questions she had increased.

-x-

Izmuir also had much to reflect on. The plans he carefully constructed after finding the human male in the tunnels were either unraveling or taking unforeseen twists.

Did he act too hastily? No, time was of the essence. His strength waned little by little with each passing day. He did not know precisely how much time he had left. By taking the girl early he might have bought a few extra days, maybe a couple of weeks. He would soon be on the path to recovery.

The merman thought of the human he claimed. Everything hinged on her. Izmuir hoped that he chose the correct companion, for he did not have the opportunity to try again.

She was nothing like what he expected. He anticipated a quiet, demure little thing who liked to write, not a loud, brazen little thing. Despite all her less refined points, Kelsea, a mere human girl, gave him hope that one day he could return to a place he once called home. For the first time in forever, he had something to hold on to.

* * *

**May 16, 2015:** I don't have any good excuses for why it has taken me this long to upload this chapter. On top of that I'm not overly happy with how it turned out, but it's just going to have to do or else my deleted scenes file will be longer than the final version. I'm super duper sorry y'all. I promise I won't let this months between updates thing I have going become a habit. Also, rest assured that I will not ever forget about this story or abandon it completely.

A big thank you to everyone for being patient and a shoutout to all my new readers. You all are awesome (and I suck).

As always, thank you for reading!

-Lauren


	6. 5: Questioning

**The Mermaid Disease**

**5/Questioning**

"I want to eat you," Kelsea stated easily, as if she had said "I want to eat ice cream" instead. "You can either take that as a compliment or a sign of my loss of sanity – I don't care which. I'm craving fresh meat and you're the closest thing to it out here. Of course, I could never _actually_ eat you. For one, I would have to catch you and that is right next to impossible. Also, I'm a lousy chef so you would definitely taste horrible if I tried cook you. However, the most important factor that is preventing me from eating you is that I don't know what kind of diseases you carry."

The seagull in the palm tree above her squawked.

"Hey, don't take offense from that. Germ-infested trash is part of your diet and I do not want to catch anything else on top of this stupid mermaid problem. Plus you're clearly wrong in the head if you flew out to this island in the middle of nowhere."

The gull deposited a load of poo on Kelsea's foot before it squawked again and flew away. She leapt up from her shady seat on the ground and yelled at the bird, "Fly away, coward, because if I get my hands on you I'll wring your neck!" She shook her leg out a couple times but realized the flailing was getting her nowhere – more like she was doing a ridiculous dance. (You put your right leg in, you put your right leg out, you put your right leg in and you shake it all about.)

She mumbled, "You made an awful conversationalist, anyway."

Kelsea shuffled through the sand, hoping that the fine crystalline granules would scrape off at least some of the gunk. Instead, most of it simply stuck to her, leaving her with a bigger mess. Finally, she decided to rise off her foot and headed towards the water.

By her count, this day made her eighth on the pathetic excuse for an island. Her dad's fiftieth birthday passed and Kelsea was certain it had not been the happy celebration he wished for. She wondered what they did instead. What if they thought–

Nope, she was absolutely not going to let her thoughts wander down that dark alley (for the hundredth time). She was already losing her mind to boredom, and that was only the tip of the iceberg of her problems.

The blonde girl hiked up the skirt she had fashioned for herself and stepped into the shallow surf in order to rid herself of the bird droppings.

To avoid dwelling on the unhappy things, the she tried to think about the bright side of her situation. For instance, she had poked around the boat and found a cache of clothes under the bed cushions in a storage cabinet. Sure, the clothes had obviously belonged to a large man with a penchant for tacky patterns, but she made do with what she could. The neckline of the t-shirts fit around her waist so she knotted the sleeves closed and wore the shirts as skirts.

She also found a few gallon jugs of water and large stash of jerky of every type and flavor. She appreciated a meal that wasn't seaweed, but she missed fresh meat (and basically every other food).

But most importantly, she was glad she was alive and could keep an eye on the merman. As long as he hovered around the island, he was nowhere close to her family. She could put up with the silence, the tense atmosphere, and the itchy throat and legs, but she would not tolerate her family being harassed or harmed.

Kelsea, having scrubbed her foot clean, made her way out of the water. She sat down in the sand so that the warm waves would barely brush her toes while the rest of her stayed dry.

The teenager scanned the horizon, hoping that today would be the day a boat sailed by or even a plane would fly overhead. They never did, which Kelsea found highly unusual. It was like she was living in the center of the Bermuda Triangle. (Actually, this was probably worse.)

As she stared into the distance she mindlessly ran her fingers up and down her smooth legs. Normally she'd probably kill for a razor to shave her legs after only a couple days (she couldn't stand prickly legs), but somehow her legs were relatively hairless. Weird, but for once she wasn't about to complain.

Without looking she knew that little dark bruises dotted her lower limbs. They were concentrated around the bite mark above her ankle. Her fingers lingered over the puncture wounds. They had healed quickly into shallow dips in her skin. The black color was disconcerting, but it was on the list of topics she tried not to think about.

"How do you fare?" The baritone voice of Izmuir seemingly came out of nowhere, disrupting her thoughts.

Kelsea glanced to her right, where the merman lay on his back and his arms crossed under his head. He must have dragged himself there within the last couple minutes, and she hadn't noticed a thing.

"Doesn't lying like that hurt the fin on your back?" she asked, her gaze quickly returning to the water when fish-boy turned his gold eyes on her.

"Nay. My dorsal fin is mainly composed of soft rays; they are fairly flexible," he said with a slight flick of his tail. "Now, how do you fare?"

She shrugged. "Can I go home now?"

Izmuir's face had been neutral, but with that question a frown marred his pleasant features. "My response remains unchanged: nay."

Kelsea hummed briefly.

-x-

The girl's monologue to the bird was the most Izmuir had heard her say in the last week. She sometimes wrote words in the sand and other times the fingers on her right hand twitched as she mouthed something, but rarely did she vocalize her thoughts without him provoking her.

What happened to her fiery personality? Had the water quenched it? He liked listening to her speak, even if it involved her yelling at him. At first he had not been sure about her passionate nature, but he had come to realize that he preferred it over her current state. Now, if he tried to converse with the human, he received curt responses, if any. A successful dialogue might include her ignoring his questions and asking her own.

The merman wanted to understand her. The sadness that lurked in her stormy gray eyes added to the guilt that consumed him. The shame hurt worse than the physical pain brought on by his condition.

"Human –" The girl glowered at him, so he started again: "Kelsea, how fare you?"

She sniggered, "Reply hazy; try again." Her land-colloquialisms confused him, but he understood the gist. Perhaps an alternate topic would be more suited to her liking.

"What are you doing?" he tried.

A pregnant pause made Izmuir doubt a response would be had, but then she said, "Searching for a sign of life."

"Am I not amongst living?" he goaded.

Kelsea pursed her rose-tinted lips. "Can we try again? Ask me what I'm doing."

Hope bubbled inside his chest. "What are you doing?"

"Searching for a sign of intelligent life."

"Am I not – _oh_." With her rejoinder, clever retorts died on his tongue. His heart sank.

She truly despised every bit of him down to the last scale, and there was nothing he could do to reverse the damage. He could not let her return home; her transformation was essential to his survival.

But did he not want the same thing as her? Did he not desire to return to his homeland? Did he not wish to see his kind again, even though they were the ones who saw him exiled – who sentenced him to a slow death? Kelsea knew that she would be welcomed back; he was not certain if the same could be said of him.

At least he knew an ember remained of her fire.

-x-

Kelsea felt like she had kicked a puppy. Izmuir had sat up during their exchange, but his head was downturned, his long, dark hair falling in front of his face. Underneath the curtain of hair, a hurt expression adorned his face. What happened to Mr. Haughty?

She regretted opening her mouth, despite having no good reason to feel sorry to her captor. Arguably, he deserved it. He never gave a good reason for tearing her from her friends and family. He never apologized for any of his actions. Her philosophy: When in doubt, blame the merman – it was probably his fault. Coconut head was an a-hole.

And she was being a jerk too. He had his story and secrets; she had hers.

The flaxen haired girl stood up, brushing the sand from her butt before retreating. Starting the next day she would be the bigger person.

Kelsea hid herself away in the boat. She ripped open a packet of jerky – this one a barbecue seasoned pork jerky – and sipped from a jug of water. She had not been inside for half and hour before she heard the distinct pitter-patter of rain droplets hitting the boat.

The girl set down her snack and moved onto the boat deck. There she stood, allowing the sunshower to rinse everything away. Fifteen minutes later, she returned to the boat cabin and changed into dry apparel.

She padded over to a cushion and sat down, crossing her legs. Her fingers drummed across her thighs for a moment as she pondered what to do next. It was times like these she yearned for her journal and a pen to record and sort out her thoughts.

Her neck itched worse than a mosquito bite, and her legs were not too much better. She remembered the text from English class, the one about a girl sneaking onto her father's ship dressed as a boy. Kelsea had plenty of time to think about it, and was sure that the girl had gone through the same thing Kelsea was undergoing.

If only Kelsea had bothered to _really_ read it instead of skimming through and then tossing the packet of papers. Maybe then she would remember what changes to her body to expect next, or maybe have an estimated time until mermaid-ification.

She had so many questions. Tomorrow she would try her luck (which she had seemingly none of) and try to get some of her questions answered. Until then, she hummed and whispered bits of any song that came to mind.

And thus, her eighth day on the island crawled by and to a close.

The next day, however, started with Kelsea sitting up in bed with a gasp. The sun had not risen so she sat blind in the dark. The smell and taste of salt in the air and the sound of rolling waves assaulted her senses more than they ever had before.

Her throat felt dry and itchy; she needed something to sooth the burn and she needed it now. She reached out for her jug of water, not caring that she spilt water all over herself. The drink did nothing for her but go down the wrong pipe, causing her to choke and cough.

Without thinking, Kelsea stumbled out of the boat cabin and beelined towards the shore. When her feet hit knee-deep water, she tripped.

In the two seconds she spent face-down underwater, the relief she felt was immeasurable. She could have stayed there forever.

Then her reflexes kicked in, forcing her to push her head out of the water. Slowly, the girl stood up so that the waves were not breaking on her head. Kelsea tried to put one foot in front of the other in order to turn around, but found her legs uncooperative with her desire to move.

She ignored her body's demands to start hyperventilating and focused on staying calm. She took in deep, even breaths and –

Hiccup.

Kelsea's hand flew over her mouth as involuntary diaphragm spams rapidly struck. She wished that she had cute little hiccups, but instead she suffered from deep, loud ones.

What the fuck was happening to her? (And she didn't mean the hiccup attack.) Clearly, her life as she had come to know it in the past week was finally beginning to fall to pieces.

She didn't even care that the merman half swam, half dragged himself closer to her in the time that she stood in place. She did not snap at him when he looked up at her with pity in his reflective eyes. (Boy, did she want to. Kelsea did not want his pity; she wanted to go home.)

"Let me aid you," Izmuir said, holding a large webbed hand up to her.

The girl shook her head. "I don't" – hiccup – "trust you. Tell me" – hiccup – "what is happening."

"Your body has reached a critical point in your metamorphosis. The sea calls to your essence to continue the process." His hand fell slightly as he spoke.

She thought about his response and said between hiccups, "So I could theoretically avoid the water and go back to normal?"

"Nay." He briefly exposed his sharp fangs, though less out of malice and more to remind Kelsea of their presence. "When a merman bites a human female and introduces his venom to her lifeblood, nothing will halt her change into a fish-maid. Being near my presence has quickened some of your developments. Resistance at this point will only elongate the remaining time and lead to unnecessary pain and possibly death.

"Now, if you were to have confidence in me but once in your lifetime, lend me your trust this moment. I wish you no ill."

With her legs still being frozen in place, she was not going anywhere any time soon. Why not? She took his cool hand in hers and gave a sharp nod.

As the first rays of light brightened the sky, the merman yanked on arm, pulling the helpless girl into the water once again. She writhed and struck at him, attempting to surface, but Izmuir held her down.

"Breathe, silly girl," he hissed, although the water in her ears made it nearly impossible for her to perceive what he said. "Your chest spasms are your body encouraging you to use your gills. Breathe!"

It did not take long for Kelsea to make use of the new features on her neck. She stopped thrashing and once her hiccups ceased, the merman hoisted her back up.

The first thing she did was slap Izmuir on the side of his head. "A little warning would have been nice!"

* * *

**September 15, 2015:** Sorry for the wait! I hope it was with it, and if not then I'll try to make up for it doubly by updating within a week (assuming life doesn't get in the way like life tends to do). We're getting to the good stuff!

I have the best readers. Thank you for being patient and for all your love and support of me and TMD.

If you spot typos, or have any other comments, questions, concerns, or suggestions, please do tell me! I love hearing from you.

As always, thank you for reading!

-Lauren


	7. 6: Observing

**The Mermaid Disease**

**6/****Observing**

After her "near drowning" experience (which the merman insisted was the opposite of drowning. Whatever), Kelsea was exhausted. The sun wasn't anywhere close to rising. Unfortunately, her legs still felt like they were superglued together so unless she wanted to do the worm across the beach and then haul herself up the side of the boat, she wasn't going to move far from the water for the time being.

When she said something along those lines to the Izmuir, he gripped her forearms and half-swam and half-dragged for half a minute until they reached an open, sandy area in deeper water.

Izmuir dropped her unceremoniously on the ground and swam about ten feet over from her. Kelsea observed him as lied on his back, tossed a few handfuls of sand on to his tail, and tucked his arms behind his head without saying a word to her. (She wondered if they could even speak underwater. After a quick test, the blonde determined that speaking was possible, though not as clear as in the air.)

After a few moments, Kelsea tried to get herself more-or-less comfortable. She moved around until she settled into the fetal position on her side. Her head rested on one of her arms. That arm fell asleep after awhile, but the rest of her couldn't even though she was unbelievably tired. Kelsea figured it had something to do with her gills. Maybe, subconsciously, she didn't trust them to continue working when she slept. That would be her luck, to survive this long simply to drown in her sleep.

She had a lot of time to think before sunrise. The girl spent some time thinking about her friends and family and how much she missed their antics. She didn't want to dwell too long on them considering they had frequently been at the top of her mind for the past week, so she forced herself to reflect on the latest developments, i.e. the things on her neck.

As much as she didn't want to admit it, she was turning into a frickin mermaid. The bruises on her legs were one thing, but the gills were undeniably inhuman. They meant that if she somehow managed to escape the merman and by some miracle navigate her way home, she would be screwed no matter what. She'd either be hidden away for the rest of her life, become a freak show, or become a scientist's favorite test subject – or perhaps some mix of those.

What if the best she could hope for would be to silently watch her loved ones from afar? What if they moved away? What if –

Hey, what happened to her plan to not think about them? So much for that one.

The blonde made an effort to redirect her direction of thought. Topics ranging from high school and college (Fish swam in schools, but did fish-people have colleges?) to her life as a mermaid (What would she wear? What would she eat?) flittered across her mind. Every once in awhile her eyes would slowly close and she would fall sleep for a few seconds before jolting herself awake.

When the first rays of day lit began to light up her surroundings, Kelsea sat up and studied the underwater world around her.

Either the fish in the area had adjusted to her presence sometime during the night or she was simply able to spot them more easily in the light. Regardless, she saw plenty of fish in many shapes and sizes moving around her. Little translucent ones darted out of the green, swaying seagrass toward her. She flinched when their little scaled bodies brushed against her skin, but tried to remain still when they started to nibble on her hands and feet. After a minute of the tickling sensation, Kelsea adjusted her position, causing the fish to return back to the seagrass.

A swishing noise brought her attention to her "companion." Izmuir still slept, but evidently he was suffering from a nightmare. He tossed and turned, stirring up the sand around him. She nearly moved to go comfort him, or at least to wake him up, but she remained where she sat. She didn't completely trust him, especially when he wasn't fully conscious.

After a moment he settled down other than the twitches of his tail. His breathing evened out as a grimace vanished from his face. She thought he was going to wake up, but his eyes stayed shut.

It occurred to her, as she observed him, that he wasn't so hard on the eyes. She might have thought he was cute when they first met, but ever since he had gone on psycho-mode and bit her, she hadn't exactly been paying attention to his looks. Besides, Stockholm Syndrome wasn't her thing – figuring out a way to undo the mermaid thing and getting back to her family was.

But in the meantime, surely no harm could come from observing a handsome male specimen.

For the first time since she met him, Izmuir sported a bit of stubble growing on his face. She didn't even know that he could grow a beard. And while she was noticing things about the merman for the first time, she also thought she could see a few of distinct lines of small, white, circular scars going up and around his right forearm.

His tail was a solid gray – not light enough to be Spanish gray and not dark enough to be dim gray. If it had at least been shiny or a few shades lighter then maybe it could have passed as silver and complimented his golden eyes. But no, it was just a dingy gray.

As she studied him, the flicking of his tail tin became faster and more violent until he was kicking so much he looked like he was going for gold in an Olympic race. The girl was surprised he didn't wake up or sleepwalk – er, sleepswim? – away from his resting spot. At that point she finally decided that enough was enough.

She tried to throw a pebble at him so that she wouldn't have to get near, but it fell to the ground after a short distance, the drag from water slowing it too much.

Kelsea swam/crawled (her legs _still_ couldn't part) closer to Izmuir. Her hand hovered hesitantly over him as she quickly wondered whether or not he would be snappy if she woke him. She took a deep breath (which was less satisfying with gills, by the way) to ready herself.

"Hey, fish-boy, wake up," she said, placing her hand on his upper arm and shaking him. "Neither of us are enjoying your dream so you might as well do us both a favor and wake up."

He sang something Kelsea didn't understand despite it sounding crystal clear even underwater. The message had been short, but the melodic way in which he spoke made her feel like magic was coursing through her body, caressing her body from the inside. Well butter her butt and call her toast! Maybe there was some truth to siren songs, after all.

The pleasant sensation lasted only for the briefest of moments and it left her discombobulated when it ended.

"Desist," the merman ordered, pushing away the hand that still shook his shoulder, albeit with much less force than before.

Backing away slowly, she said, "One: Sue me for trying to do something nice. Two: What was that?" She hated how garbled her words sounded underwater now that she had such an impeccable comparison.

Disregarding her question, Izmuir righted himself off the ground and brushed the dirt off himself. It was weird seeing him vertical, she though, since she had always either seen him horizontal or only his head sticking out above the water. After taking his sweet time stretching, he turned his stare on to her.

His eyes were narrowed angrily. He opened his mouth as if to speak and Kelsea thought he was about to accuse her of something but he quickly bit down on his bottom lip instead, causing his bottom lip to bleed near the corners of his mouth. The merman squeezed his eyes shut and when they opened again his face was neutral.

"_That_ was a mistake," he said, sounding much less clear than before and not having the same effect on her. "I promised not to speak in that tongue until … I does not matter when. I will not let it occur again. I extend to you an apology."

Her head tilted slightly to the side. "Um, I accept your apology?"

A still-bleeding corner of the merman's mouth quirked up into a slight smirk. She could hear the words he left unspoken: _Do you ask a question or accept the apology?_

Instead, he said, "Come, we have a long journey to make ahead of us." He took hold of her wrist, pulling her up and away.

Kelsea dug her feet into the soil before they got too far. "No way, Jose! You have dragged me this far! I flat-out refuse to go any further!"

Izmuir let go of the girl and turned around to face her. His tail twitched. "You are well aware than my name is not Jose –"

"It's an expression, fish-boy!"

"– and is there anything I can do to make you more willingly compliant? We really must not tarry for long."

"Can I become normal again? Can I go home?" she asked, hands on her hips.

The merman grabbed her chin and turned her head left and right. Then he moved in close. His nose brushed against hers as he analyzed her face for something. Kelsea shoved him away.

"Are you unwell?" he asked. "I know no reason for you to be suffering from memory loss. I have answered these same questions before, and I shall answer the same: nay; I need you at my side."

"'Nay,'" she mocked. "My answer is no, too. No to everything."

The two had a stare-down. (Kelsea imagined herself as a gunslinger in a western, waiting for the merman to flinch so she could whip out her gun and win their duel and … What was that? Ah crap. She lost that gunfight.)

The merman finished whatever he had been saying and looked at her expectantly, a glint in his eyes.

"Erm, can you repeat that?" she said, trying not to look sheepish.

"I offer a trade."

* * *

**May 17, 2016:** I'M ALIVE. And, if you haven't guessed by now, life got in the way. I am terribly sorry. If you want to know the details about why one week turned into months, send me a message. Good news: I have a few large chunks of the next chapter already done since they were removed from this chapter. Woo! Also, even though I am studying abroad in Valencia for another month from now, I plan on getting a lot of writing done this summer. Fingers crossed nothing goes wrong.

If you spot a typo or have comments/concerns/suggestions/questions, please do tell me. I'm sick and sleepy and just want this chapter to finally be up, so I know this chapter is _far_ from perfect.

Thank you so much to everyone who has stuck with me over all this time, and hello to new readers! Y'all are amazing! I'll see if I can try to start responding to comments and messages soon, if I haven't already.

Thanks for reading! -Lauren


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